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Lädt ... leadbelly: poems (National Poetry Series)von Tyehimba Jess
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Melde dich bei LibraryThing an um herauszufinden, ob du dieses Buch mögen würdest. Keine aktuelle Diskussion zu diesem Buch. Beautiful and not like anything I've read before. ( ) I was impressed by leadbelly by Tyehimba Jess, the author of Olio. It won the National Poetry Series competition. Like Olio, it's based on historical research he did, this time about the influential black American folk and blues singer, and awesome 12 string guitar player, Leadbelly (1889-1949). Leadbelly (or Lead Belly), Huddie William Ledbetter, had fits of temper, and was in and out of prison. He had to deal with the racism of the time, and trying to make a living singing n-word music. Here are a couple of poems from the book that I liked. 1912: blind lemon jefferson explaining to leadbelly . . . an' everything gotta be 'live on you son, read the crowd like a fortune teller's tealeaf, from the plunk of a nickel to the bang of a quarter to the smell of thieves schemin' on a blind man's cash. see this scar? i was between guitars in san antonio and broke enough to wrestle men for carnival money. the one that did this had come back three times for a ass whuppin' only a fool could want again, but when he pull that shiv outta his boot, didn't nobody say nothin' - had they bets on how hard i was gonna bleed. that's what the world is, son. desperate enough to pin a blind man's back to the ground for all the money he can't never even see. hungry enough to chop him down for takin' what he's earned. that's what the world is. they lost money that day. an i squeezed my stella out the pawnbroker's grip one last time. that's what that box o' strings is, son. your boxcar ticket outta nowhere. maybe even steak dinner, silk ties, and all the leg you can stroke. but you gotta wrestle for it, son. you got to . . . (*"stella" = his guitar) *** martha: life's work after strummin' til the sky bleeds orange, red- eyed and raw-throated lead stumbles on home and warms up the cold space on our mattress. we touch slow for a small while, before i rise to the mountain of laundry and lye that every cleaning woman got to climb without a stop,without gettin' no higher than a washtub bottom or maybe the tile i bend my knees into every day in park avenue apartment buildings. this is how we keep a living, we pay on lay-away with spent muscle, stealing back our flesh between the the twilight and sunrise so we can own one thing what's got no price. (* Martha was leadbelly's wife) Zeige 2 von 2 keine Rezensionen | Rezension hinzufügen
Auszeichnungen
Portrays the life of Huddie Ledbetter by telling the story of this Louisiana native and son of a cotton picker in a series of persona poems. The collection of poetry is divided by titles of Leadbelly's recorded songs: "What kind of soul has man?" "What you gonna do when the world's on fire?" and "The blood done signed your name." Keine Bibliotheksbeschreibungen gefunden. |
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Google Books — Lädt ... GenresMelvil Decimal System (DDC)811.6Literature English (North America) American poetry 21st CenturyKlassifikation der Library of Congress [LCC] (USA)BewertungDurchschnitt:
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